


Standing Alone, Waiting

by giselleslash



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reincarnation, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/pseuds/giselleslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur post-5.13. Maybe once isn't all they get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Alone, Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> My idea of a fix-it fic.

Merlin stood at the shore, feet in the water and unable to move, like perhaps if he stood very firmly right where he was there would come a point where everything would retract. Arthur would come back to him and everything would go in reverse until they came to the point where it mattered most.

And then Merlin would be there. 

But that moment never came and Merlin watched as Arthur floated further and further away from him until the glow of the Sidhe surrounded him and guided him the rest of the way home. It pained Merlin to know that no matter how powerful, no matter how sacred they, nor Avalon itself, were they would never take care of Arthur as well, or as devotedly, as Merlin had.

The day grew dark and his feet grew numb until suddenly he was lifted from the water, never once having heard Percival wade into the water behind him. Percival set him carefully on the ground but made sure he was still facing Arthur’s path. He knew he had made some kind of desperate sound, perhaps a whimper, as Percival had lifted him into his strong and steady arms and Merlin had reached out toward Arthur, resisting even the small distance Percival put between them. 

Arthur was already so distant, so far from him, that Merlin could hardly bear more.

Percival built a fire and Merlin was vaguely aware of the warmth and the prickles that worked themselves into his feet as they slowly abandoned their numbness. Percival never said a word, though it was rare he ever did, always so quiet and steady. Always a pillar holding everyone up. 

Soon a large, warm hand was at the center of his back and Percival was beside him. Merlin silently thanked him for not forcing him closer to the fire, or to the food he could smell cooking. Percival simply sat beside him in the silence and bitter darkness and turned his eyes, too, to where Arthur had gone though Merlin knew he couldn’t possibly see beyond the faint circle of light the fire afforded them. 

Percival sat with him the entire night and when the sun rose the next morning Merlin resented its rising. Like it was just another day. Like it was nothing at all. Merlin wanted to curse the sun to never rise again, didn’t it know that a far more brilliant light had failed to rise with it today. Merlin thought it should always be dark. 

Percival’s silence remained throughout the day and into the night. He tended the horses, cooked more food Merlin did not eat, and sat beside him. Merlin was grateful for his presence, it somehow anchored him to the world.

Another day passed and finally Merlin could no longer stand it. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a croak. He tried to swallow and bring forth his voice, locked so deep inside, fighting against him to never be heard again unless heard by Arthur’s ears.

“My mother.” He finally managed to force past his lips. Percival was adding wood to the fire but his voice must have been loud enough because he set it aside and began to smother the flames instead. 

It was only when Percival helped him onto the second, riderless, horse that he realized the true enormity of all he had lost. Percival would never have been without him. Merlin touched the horse’s mane.

“Gwaine.”

Percival only glanced at him before looking away. Merlin wished he had it in him to aid Percival in his grief, as he had done for Merlin, but anything outside of his own sorrow for Gwaine and Arthur was beyond his reach. He hoped one day Percival would forgive him his selfishness.

Merlin let Percival guide them both to Ealdor. Merlin remembered telling him tales of his childhood there, having had none of his own - at least none that were happy - Percival adored them. It was like he gathered the stories to his heart and created within it a childhood of his own. Gwaine had endless stories for him and Merlin found some small comfort in the fact that those pieces of Gwaine were now firmly lodged inside a kind, beating heart. 

It felt as if it took them weeks to travel the distance as every step he took away from Arthur felt like a thousand such was the strain on his soul. He was so tired. So tired. 

Once they finally came to the village, just as the sun was setting, Merlin ached at how familiar it was, how painfully unaffected, unaware. He stopped his horse for a moment to look around him and take in what had once been the world before it cracked apart. It was beautiful still and Merlin wanted to linger in the moment. 

“Shall I get your mother?” Percival’s quiet voice asked at his side. Merlin shook his head and dismounted, surprised when he managed to stay upright when his feet hit the ground. 

There was a faint light coming from his mother’s cottage and it felt like a beacon forcing his heavy feet to move forward. By the time he made it the short distance all he could do was press his hand against the door and breathe, he hadn’t the strength for anything else. Percival’s arm came around his shoulders as he knocked at Hunith’s door. Merlin slumped against his side.

“Merlin.” 

Merlin looked up to see Hunith take a step toward him and he deflated.

“Mum.”

He reached out for her, grabbing a hold of her as he sank to his knees and dragged her down with him. His body wracked with the sobs he had held in all those hours and days. Hunith wrapped her arms around Merlin and huddled over him, her fingers in his hair and her voice soft and quiet in his ear. 

“I’m here, my love. I’m here.” And Merlin was suddenly a babe being rocked in his mother’s arms. 

Merlin didn’t know how long he cried in his mother’s open doorway but it was dark when Percival finally helped his mother lift him up and lead him inside. Merlin watched Percival find his way around Hunith’s small home as he laid curled on his side on his mother’s bed, her hand stroking his hair. His mother spoke quietly to Percival but the words didn’t make sense in Merlin’s mind they were so faint and far away, all he cared about was that Hunith didn’t leave his side. 

Days must have passed because suddenly Percival was gone for a time, then back again with Gwen. Merlin opened his eyes when a gentle hand touched his face. 

“I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t -.” 

“Shh, Merlin. Shh.” Gwen leaned over him, her fingers stroking his cheek. “You were with him.”

Merlin buried his face in her lap and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

Gwen made a sound as if she were trying to speak but it melted into a small, choked sob as she crumpled over the top of Merlin. He felt her body deflate and refill itself with the same sorrow that was filling Merlin’s own body to bursting. He pulled himself from her grasp so he could sit up and gather her properly into his own arms. He’d had arms holding him within their love for days and he wondered if Gwen had had the same. 

Merlin doubted she had. 

Gwen had surely remained upright and strong throughout, having lost all those who had once held her, she would have been alone in her grief. Perhaps Gaius had held her close. Merlin hoped he had.

Now it was his turn to hold together someone else, to keep her from shattering apart and dissolving into nothing. Gwen clung to him and together they rocked, swaying with the sorrow of being the two people in all of the world who knew what it was to be loved by Arthur. A gift incandescent in its giving, unbearable in its loss. 

When they had exhausted themselves Merlin looked up to see Percival watching them, silent and apart as always. Merlin reached out his hand and Percival stepped forward to take it. Merlin drew him in until he sat on the edge of the bed at Merlin’s side. He didn’t break the bounds of propriety but he sat at their side and shared in their grief with a quiet sorrow that hung heavy around them all. 

Gwen and Percival stayed for two days, and at times Merlin and Gwen could even smile at the memory of Arthur’s horrid manners and the look upon his face every time Hunith handed him a bowl of porridge when they had come all those years ago, when both were only just beginning to realize the true enormity of their love for Arthur.

Before she left Merlin told Gwen that Percival would always be able to find him, would always be able to bring Gwen to Arthur’s side if she needed. But he also told her that he could not step foot in a Camelot that no longer held Arthur, he was so sorry. Gwen held him close one last time and told him to never mind that, she and Gaius would be there. 

“You are a glorious queen, Guinevere.”

She smiled at the ‘Guinevere’ and stood tall once again and Merlin knew she would keep the glory of Arthur’s Camelot alive and thriving for years to come. 

After they had gone Merlin felt the full extent of Arthur’s pull on him. From the moment he had left the shores of Avalon behind he’d felt an ever tightening force pulling him back. He had known he’d never be able to be far from Arthur’s side, but nearly gasped at the physicality of it. He could barely be in his own skin and his mother’s keen eyes saw his struggle.

“You should go home, Merlin,” she said, quiet and understanding. 

There was nothing to say, so Merlin only nodded and gathered his things together. She kissed him goodbye, told him she’d come to visit - Percival had told her where to find him - and that though his heart was lost and broken it would find peace once again.

Merlin’s only thought was, yes, it will, when Arthur comes back to me.

~*~

The first time Arthur came back to him - though he didn’t know it would be the first of many and not the one and only - Merlin had been away from his small cottage by the shore. He had been in a neighboring village trying to ease the suffering of the sick, those afflicted with the pain of the plague sweeping the land. A plague filled with dark magic that Merlin ached to see return to Albion. He had hoped they had put all that behind them with the end of Morgana, but as in all things, people are not always kind, they are not always good, and they wield their magic accordingly.

Merlin was hunched with the weight of trying to stop it on his own; to heal the sick, to raise the spirits of the people, and to fight the wave of blackness coursing over them all. So long had they had peace, decades upon decades of the glory of Camelot living long, that Merlin was ill prepared to fight again for all those that had fought by his side before, had protected the land, had long ago left its shores. 

But as the dragon told him, just as he thought he’d crush under the weight of darkness, he felt his pulse pound in an unnatural rhythm as all the magic inside him began to vibrate, to sing. It was a joy Merlin had long since forgotten about, and a serenity that had eluded him. 

In a panic, lest Arthur think him gone, he ran for home. Out of breath and weak-kneed Merlin stumbled to a stop, fell to his knees at the sight of the figure standing quiet at the shore and gazing out at Avalon. 

Arthur looked as he had the day they parted though now he stood barefoot in the loose white tunic he had so loved, looking as though he had just woken. Merlin supposed he had, at least he had always hoped that Arthur had slept in a long resting peace. 

Arthur must have heard Merlin clamber to a stop because he turned to him and smiled.

“Graceful as always, Merlin.”

It was his name on Arthur’s lips that recalled the tears he had so long ago buried. His fingers dug into the soil like claws as he dropped his head, hunched over with choking sobs. 

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice no longer teasing but worried, and suddenly, so blessedly near. 

Merlin swallowed his sobs and tried to speak. “Sorry - . You. You don’t know - .”

He wanted to say, _’you don’t know how long I’ve waited,’_ and, _’you don’t know how happy I am,’_ but he could barely draw breathe much less say everything he wanted to say.

Arthur’s hands framed his face and pulled it up until he could press his forehead against Merlin’s. 

“It has been so long.”

Merlin nodded, his breath coming in staggered bursts that swept across Arthur’s face, as he let go of the earth and grasped at Arthur’s arms, fingers clutching the soft white linen. 

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Merlin wanted to laugh, wanted to tell Arthur how unimportant the waiting was. 

Arthur was back, everything else fell away.

~*~

It had amused them both that first time, that when Arthur came back it wasn’t in the capacity of a great king or warrior, but a physician who would have made Gaius proud. Who made Merlin proud every single day he stood beside him.

That time around it was Arthur helping Merlin to create the world Merlin had once known, to bring it back to the time of light that Arthur had begun, and Gwen had prolonged, nurtured. Arthur had been so proud to hear of the glory of Gwen’s reign, his Guinevere. 

“You made the right choice, Arthur.”

“I always do.”

Merlin had laughed at that, bright and clear. He once again had his Arthur back. 

The plague lifted, they grew old together - Arthur always huffing in irritation when Merlin would fake the aches and pains Arthur truly felt - they lived in Merlin’s house by the shore. 

Saying goodbye to Arthur the second time was almost as painful as the first. Merlin didn’t know then that he would see Arthur again, and while the first time felt too short the second time was too long. Merlin had had years to stand beside Arthur. Years and years to love him. By that time Arthur had become buried so firmly, so surely, inside every fiber of Merlin’s being that to sever him was to lose a part of himself.

Merlin could only be thankful for Arthur’s long life as he stood at the shore and watched Arthur leave him a second time. 

There were dark days and dark times after Arthur’s second departure. Merlin hoped to find ways to follow him, ways to let go, and, decade by decade, the world fell apart once more. Invasions and wars flowed like waves across the land and it took every ounce of strength in Merlin to care that the world was falling apart around him. 

It wasn’t until he felt the familiar pounding of his pulse, the familiar joy, that he was pulled back into the world of the living. 

“You’re back.” Merlin’s hands grasped the doorway to keep himself upright.

Arthur smiled. “I think that I am needed.”

Merlin didn’t say, _’you’re always needed.’_

~*~

So they learned that while Arthur couldn’t always stay, he would always come back. And it wasn’t always death that parted them. Sometimes they both simply knew it was time for him to go and he’d be sent off with Merlin’s quiet, _’sleep well.’_ The last words he heard until he awoke once again.

Merlin had smiled and told him he had always been slow when, after their fourth time around, Arthur had touched Merlin’s lips and said, _’I have loved you all these years,’_ with a sense of wonder and realization. 

Arthur had laughed at him. “I think taking nearly a hundred years to kiss you is a bit more than slow, Merlin.”

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you what an idiot you are. I thought it would ruin the moment.”

Merlin decided waiting almost a hundred years for a kiss wasn’t that bad, in the grand scheme of things, especially when Arthur had kissed him like he had. 

However, that didn’t stop Merlin from holding it over Arthur’s head for the rest of that life, and all the rest after. Arthur had to make up for lost time, hadn’t he?

Again and again they lived their lives. Arthur was a physician, a soldier, a sailor, a king once again - though not by the same name - a writer calling men to arms through the power of his words. Again and again Arthur was there for Albion when she needed him most. Merlin was always by his side. 

“It is only the two of us, together, that can alter the world. Never me alone.” Arthur had whispered to him in the night. Merlin forgot which life. “It has always been you that made me strong.”

Gradually magic faded from the world; a fact that dismayed Arthur but made Merlin feel free. He had never wanted to be a savior, had never wanted anything more than to be Arthur’s friend and his love. It suited Merlin fine to be the one in the background, even though the notion had never sat well with Arthur. From those last days of their first life, when he saw Merlin for who he truly was, Arthur had always made sure Merlin shined bright in every life after never realizing it was himself that had always been meant to shine.

Although in time even kings meant to shine, meant to reign forever, get tired. Merlin began to dread the burdens he had to put on Arthur every time he returned to him. Arthur never complained, but by then Merlin was Arthur too and he felt all his exhaustion and sorrow along with him. Merlin remembered the dragon, even his mother, telling him that he and Arthur were two sides of the same coin but endless lives and hundreds of years together made them no longer two sides but simply the coin itself. The two of them melted down into one. 

When Arthur came back in the 1980s Merlin had loved dressing him up, giving him Flock of Seagulls hair, and making him listen to Depeche Mode records on repeat as Arthur complained and wondered why Depeche Mode had never learned the value of a lute. Merlin wondered though why then, what was Arthur to do? Of course there were still wars and poverty and a world in need of its king, but it wasn’t anything more or less than what had returned him other times. Merlin always seemed to know what Arthur was meant to do, this time he didn’t.

As the years passed and Arthur grew no older, no wrinkles creased his face, no strands of silver crept into his hair, Merlin began to see. Merlin began to hope. 

He had to be certain though.

He went to the spot where once his cottage had stood, alone and waiting for Arthur’s return. Eventually Merlin had been able to venture away from Avalon because Arthur’s call always brought him back when he was needed, and Arthur didn’t want to be reminded of when he had to leave the world, and Merlin, behind. He preferred to stay far away from the lonely island.

The cottage was obviously no longer there. Lost long ago to a year Merlin no longer remembered anyway. Avalon, however, remained the same. Somehow it kept developers at bay and stood silent and alone as it always had. 

Merlin stood at the shore and called out to the Sidhe who came at his call, their magic reviving Merlin’s own. A blinding surge of magic that made him stumble forward at its power. Merlin thought it strange that he could forget the power he wielded. 

“Arthur?” was all he asked.

“He has done his duty. Now is his reward.”

Relief like Merlin had never known, not even when Arthur had returned that first time, rushed through him. He felt weightless as tears streamed down his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered, but the Sidhe were already gone.

When Merlin walked through the door of the house that had been their home for nearly thirty years he was greeted by an irritated, and belovedly familiar, “Merrrrlin.”

“What?”

“My iPad. It’s doing that thing again. Fix it.”

Merlin smiled to himself and walked over to the couch where Arthur sat glaring at his iPad. Merlin quietly took it out of his hands and pressed the home button and just as quietly handed it back. Arthur, predictably, scowled at him. Arthur’s continued technology fail always made Merlin’s heart nearly burst with fondness. 

But what did he expect? Arthur was still confused and enraged by their remote control. 

It made him incredibly dear to Merlin.

“Where were you?” Arthur asked as he pulled up a new game of Bejeweled.

Merlin sat back and curled up against Arthur’s side, kissed his shoulder. “Avalon.”

Arthur’s fingers stilled on the iPad, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re mine to keep.”

Arthur’s head dropped forward and his iPad laid abandoned in his hands. Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur’s shoulders again when he felt them start to shake. He let the silent tears roll down Arthur’s face. They had never talked about it, neither one wanting to jinx it, but now Merlin could feel how acute Arthur’s relief was. Just like his own. 

Always just like his own.

Merlin let Arthur cry as he rubbed his back, ran his fingers up Arthur’s neck and into his hair and back down again. After a time Arthur wiped away the tears and simply nodded. 

It was done.

Their story was told. 

 

~End

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd rather, feel free to [comment on LJ](http://giselleslash.livejournal.com/399446.html).


End file.
